#fdlc

The Lavellan women - for such they would now be called, no longer entitled to their half-brother's family name nor expectant of any support from him - were forced to accept this unwelcome change so soon upon the tails of the former Bann's death, and each reacted to the pain and inconvenience in their own ways. Ellana, the now Widow Lavellan, a handsome elven woman no more than forty years of age, had given way to her grief so wholly since the death of her beloved husband that she barely stepped from her rooms, weeping inconsolably as though she might never look upon the world with dry eyes again. Her somewhat romantic and dramatic view of their new circumstance was transmitted to her younger daughter, Lanise, who now chose to spend hours in the music room, playing the saddest of music at the highest of volumes, determined to cloak the house in the mantle of her grieving sixteen-year-old heart. And then there was Eralen, the elder Lavellan daughter who, though as heartbroken and saddened by their loss as her mother and sister, showed the world a calm face and gentle manner, taking on the burdens of running the household, making Goldanna and Johannes welcome in their new home, and consoling her mother during the worst of her fits of grief.

"Mamae, there is no need for this," she said, watching as her weeping mother swept about her private rooms, tossing keepsakes and personal items haphazardly into an open trunk. "Johannes will not simply toss us out onto the street."

"Yet he was quick to arrive and take charge of the estate," Ellana snapped back at her daughter. "And sending that woman ahead of him to hurry us along! Vultures, the pair of them, taking stock and inventory, laying a price on every precious memory we have made here. I will not stay to be a stranger in my own home, I will not -"

Yet here she crumbled, collapsing onto the stool by her vanity, her tears renewed with a wail muffled only by the press of her handkerchief to her mouth. Eralen bit her lip, moving further into the room to lay a gentle hand on her mother's back.

"I will start making enquiries to finding us somewhere else to live," she said quietly, not knowing what else she could say in the face of her mother's distress. "But until we have somewhere to go, you will have to bear it, Mamae."

Ellana groped for her daughter's hand, pressing her wet cheek against Eralen's knuckles.

"What would we do without you?"

Eralen smiled faintly, bending to kiss her mother's hair. As she straightened, the sonorous music faded for just a moment, only to be replaced with a melancholy rendition of a song the late Bann had dearly loved. Eralen winced just a split second before her mother burst into tears once again, throwing herself fully into her grief for the loss of the husband she had loved. 

With an imperceptible sigh, the elder Miss Lavellan left her mother to her weeping, calling for Orana to bring Mrs. Lavellan a cup of tea and sit with her a while until she was calm again. As the young maid nodded and hurried away, Eralen turned her face toward the music room, steeling herself to enter the whirlwind of dramatic emotion that was her younger sister. 

Passing one of the drawing rooms, she paused at the sound of voices, tilting her head toward the cracked door to briefly overhear what her half-brother and his wife were discussing. 

"Really, my dear, three women can live comfortably enough on the annuity granted by the terms of your father's will without putting you to the trouble of overseeing such a thing yourself," Goldanna was saying. "Indeed, they will be quite set up for life. And, of course, when the mother dies, the girls will receive ten thousand between them, which is not a sum to be sniffed at."

"My dear Goldanna, I made a promise to my father that I would see them cared for," Johannes answered, but even Eralen could tell he was being persuaded by his wife's greedy reasoning. "What do you say to the occasional gift of fifty gold every now and then?"

"And what would they spend it upon?" was Goldanna's reply. "In their situation, it would be more an insult than a help, I am sure, and we must think of our sweet Henry's inheritance. I feel certain your Papa never meant for you to help them with anything so vulgar as money; indeed, you need only give them the assistance they shall need when it comes to their relocation."

"No, Fanny, I must be plain on this case. My stepmother and sisters may remain here at Ostwick for as long as necessary to secure them a comfortable living."

"Of course, my dear," Goldanna soothed her husband in syrupy tones. "Yet one cannot help feeling that they cannot be allowed to engage in polite society with us. Miss Eralen is, I concede, acceptable in appearance and manner, but your stepmother and Miss Lanise are simply out of the question. Such violence of emotion cannot be allowed to stand and taint our reputation with the memory of the former incumbent."

"Oh, I quite agree on that point -"

Forcing herself not to frown, Eralen continued on, anxiously sweeping her hands down along the soft wool of her dress. So Goldanna was already working to have them gone with no inconvenience to herself; that was no surprise. She was saddened by Johannes' attitude, however. She had thought her half-brother stronger of spirit than this, yet it seemed he would bow to his wife's will. They could not expect any assistance from him. It was disappointing. But they would manage. Eralen had kept the books and helped run the household for several years now; she could keep her mother and sister from living beyond their means somehow. 

She opened the door to the music room, a sympathetic cast to her gaze as she looked upon her sister, not more than four years her junior. Lanise's eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks glistening with tears as she watched her own fingers dance heavily over the keys before her. The music was beautiful, yes - Lanise had always had a gift for it - but the heaviness of emotion she instilled into it was enough to make anyone's heart break for her. 

"Lanise, da'len," Eralen began, moving into the room to catch her sister's attention. "Could you play something else? Mamae has been weeping since breakfast."

Lanise sighed tearfully, her fingers stilling on the keys, and for a long moment, the sisters simply looked at one another - one openly passionate in her grief, the other calm and composed in spite of it. Then the younger nodded, lowering her eyes to begin playing once again. This tune was no less melancholy than the last, though lighter in sound and complexity.

"I meant something less mournful, da'len," Eralen said, but she knew she was defeated before she began.

"You could try to be a little less hostile to her, da'len," Eralen said, folding the letter carefully. "I know she will never be our friend, but she is family, of a sort."

"I do not know how you do it," Lanise replied, her tone almost exasperated but for the fondness in her gaze. "Every other word from that loathsome woman's mouth is an insult or insinuation, and you simply sit there and smile at her. Doesn't anything she says upset you at all?"

Eralen let herself smile just a little at her sister's impatience with societal expectations.

"She is not the most pleasant company, I will agree," she said, "but we must live together for some time, until we find a new home that suits us all. I do not feel the need to antagonize her further."

"But, Eralen, you are even giving up your rooms for this odious brother who is arriving today," Lanise declared, outraged on her sister's behalf. "You should have stood your ground and refused, and yet you simply bowed aside without argument! Have you no pride at all?"

"You know perfectly well that I have pride enough for us all," Eralen said, still focusing on sealing her letter with melted wax. "Has it not occurred to you to be more civil to her? It infuriates her when I do not argue or fight back; she is looking for reasons to cut us off entirely, and I refuse to give her any."

She could feel Lanise staring at her, inwardly pleased with herself for startling her sister with such a petty motivation for calm good manners. They were like the autumn and spring - autumnal Lanise, with her wild winds of passion and occasional violent bouts of emotion, and Eralen, with her quietly growing warmth and slow blossoming of feeling. It was good to know that even the autumn could be surprised by the sudden strength of the spring.

"My goodness, Eralen, you are quite the dark horse," the younger Lavellan said, suddenly sounding much happier with the circumstances of the day. "What can I do to help?"

Eralen could not help a laugh escaping her lips as she finally leaned back in her seat to meet her sister's mischievous gaze.

"Weaponize politeness, da'len," she suggested. "And help me keep Goldanna and Mamae from being alone together. Mamae is liable to attack her with a darning needle if she speaks her mind once too often."

"And you would trust me to prevent that?" Lanise laughed as she spoke, knowing her own temperament well enough.

"I would hope that you could control yourself long enough to avert bloodshed, da'len," Eralen said. "Father may have been the Inquisitor, but we are not soldiers."

"Oh, how I long to be as free as he was during the war," her younger sister yearned. "Not to be so tight-laced as we must be to endure the expectations of society."

"When have you ever bowed to the expectations of society?" Eralen asked her in amusement, rising from her seat to gather her shawl from the back of the chair. "You take delight in passing the bounds of expected behavior."

"And you stay within those lines, resigned to a life lived without passion or desire," Lanise shot back.

Eralen's smile faded at her sister's words, understanding her point of view but stung by it, nonetheless.

"We each do as we must," she said softly, glancing toward the door as a gentle hand knocked. "Come in."

One of the servants, a robust human lad of around twelve, opened the door and nodded to them respectfully.

"Begging your pardon, miss, but Lady Trevelyan wants you both in the blue drawing room," he said, passing on his message in no doubt calmer tones than Goldanna had issued it. "Mr. Theirin has arrived."

"And she wishes to show us off as poor relations, I expect," Lanise sighed.

Eralen gave her sister one censuring look before smiling at the servant.

"Thank you, Tomas, we will be there shortly," she assured him, waiting until the door closed before turning to Lanise once again. "I know you are not happy with the state of affairs, Lanise, but please, for Mamae's sake if not for mine, be civil to Mr. Theirin. He is not his sister."

"He is likely worse than she," Lanise said, determined to dislike a man she had never even heard of before a month ago. She caught sight of Eralen's worried gaze. "Do not worry so, Eralen. You will find I can be quite charming when I set my mind to it."

"Of that, I am very aware." Eralen let her smile show again, sliding her arm into Lanise's as they moved to the door. "I love you with all my heart, da'len, but I do know you as well. Please don't go out of your way to break his heart."

"His heart?" Lanise's laughter preceded them into the hallway. "My darling Eralen, he is thirty years old! Were he to show such an interest in me, I would die of mortification. To think of being courted by such an old man ... it is too dreadful to contemplate!"

"Thirty is not old, Lanise," her sister admonished her, lowering her voice for fear of being overheard. "I think you have been reading too many romances again. Love is not a transaction many people are afforded in life."

"Yet it is the only reason I can see for marriage of any kind," the younger insisted. "I will not bend to society and wed for anything less than a love that matches my own heart."

"You are not the only woman in the world who hopes for love in marriage, da'len," Eralen said softly, squeezing her arm as they walked. "Do not assume passivity on the part of those who wish to find it in the course of their duty."

"Oh, I did not mean to say that you will not be happy in whatever marriage you choose," her sister hurried to assure her, but Eralen was shaking her head, her expression warning against continuing this conversation as they reached the door to the blue drawing room.

They entered quietly together, each nodding to Goldanna politely before taking a seat on the couch. Eralen opened the sewing basket set beside the seat, handing Lanise her embroidery hoop before taking up her own mending, unwilling to simply sit in silence and wait while Goldanna sniffed and judged them over the edge of her teacup. A short while later, their mother also entered, giving the lady of the house a chilly, thin-lipped smile in greeting before taking up a seat and sewing of her own on the opposite side of the room. It was not a comfortable silence, but thankfully, it was also not a long silence, as not more than a few minutes later, Orana entered, curtsying to the tense group of women.

"Mr. Alistair Theirin, ma'am."

The man who entered was tall and handsome, tawny haired, and looked exceedingly uncomfortable in his stiff collar and cravat. He also looked more than a little intimidated by the rising of the four women who awaited him, seemingly offering his expected bow more as an after-thought than anything, prompted only by the sight of four ladies curtsying to him in greeting. Eralen could not imagine how awkward he must be feeling - even if he were a carbon copy of his sister, this was not a comfortable situation to be walking into.

"Alistair, how wonderful to see you," Goldanna said, her voice almost cloying with the syrupy sweet tone she assumed for her brother. "Mrs. Lavellan, Miss Lavellan, Miss Lanise, may I present my brother, Mr. Theirin?"

"A pleasure, Mr. Theirin," Ellana said politely. "You are most welcome to Ostwick."

"My thanks, Mrs. Lavellan," he replied, his voice warm and easy despite his rather stiff presentation.

It was such a promising start. If only her mother had remembered that she was not the lady of the house any longer; but alas, both she and Goldanna invited Alistair to take a seat, resulting in icy glares shot across the room at one another. Eralen glanced worriedly at Lanise, hoping for some assistance in this awkward moment, only for her younger sister to poke at the growing glacier sharply.

"How do you like your view, Mr. Theirin?" the younger Lavellan asked, wielding the words like a blade.

Alistair paused, blinking in surprise.

"Very much, thank you," he said in answer. "Your stables are beautifully kept, Mrs. Lavellan."

The surprise that rippled through the room was unmistakable, the women exchanging fresh glances trimmed with both pleasure and consternation. Goldanna, in particular, was disturbed by his comment.

"Stables?" she echoed. "Alistair, your rooms overlook the gardens."

"Actually, I discovered I had been mistakenly directed to one of the family rooms, Goldanna," Alistair told his sister kindly. "I have corrected the oversight, and am very pleasantly set up in one of the guest rooms."